


Of course, it's Vanessa

by MuddlingAlong



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, It's pure fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, no seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 14:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14451480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuddlingAlong/pseuds/MuddlingAlong
Summary: Little tiny puddles of Vanity fluff that don't fit elsewhere1 - Vanessa wakes Charity up to say goodbye2 - Vanity before Chas and Paddy's wedding3 - Vanity after Chas and Paddy's wedding4 - Vanity post date night





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have so much bloody work to do and all I can bloody concentrate on is Charity bloody Dingle and Vanessa bloody Woodfield
> 
> How dare they be so perfect?
> 
> Comments are always appreciated if you fancy

Someone is running gentle fingers through her hair.

 

She can feel their weight behind her, the mattress dipped.

 

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she hears, and here comes the quietly comforting realisation that it is Vanessa. 

 

It’s Vanessa. Of course, it’s Vanessa. 

 

She hums contentedly and rolls over to look into her eyes, glad that they’re the first thing she’ll see today. She stretches, arms pushed into the headboard, toes pointed. She realises dimly, as if through layers of brain fog, that she’s not wearing any clothes at all, but she really could not give less of a damn, not when she’s being held in those blue eyes.

 

“Hello,” she half-whispers, voice cracked from sleep. There’s a beautifully soft smile on Vanessa’s face that seems to emanate across her whole body.

 

“You were fast asleep,” her girlfriend strokes her with a hand that’s slightly colder than her own skin, from her elbow down to her ribcage, grazing her thumb over the side of her breast.

 

Charity feels goosebumps emerge in the wake of her touch and shivers contentedly. “Well, I had to close up, didn’t I? And then _someone_ insisted on tiring me out afterwards, remember?” That little embarrassed smile makes its way across Vanessa face and she falls in love with her for the thousandth time.

 

“What, that?” Vanessa counters, determined to hold her own in the Charity Dingle Innuendo Game, “that was nothing,” and she leans in to her girlfriend’s ear, brushing her curls away and whispers, “just you wait ’til tonight.”

 

An involuntary hum escapes the sleepy blonde’s lips and an answering kiss is softly planted at the curve of her jaw bone. “Well, I will look forward to that all day,” she murmurs, groaning in frustration as Vanessa pulls away and stands up. “You’re going?” And she realises that she is fully dressed, make up done and hair pulled back into a ponytail.

 

“I’ve got get to work,” Vanessa replies, pouting as she scans the room for her jumper. “Are you still good to get Johnny from my Dad’s this morning?”

 

Charity’s brow furrows crossly, “ooh, my _favourite_ person,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm, but on seeing Vanessa’s expression of hurt and confusion, she adds “your dad, not Johnny. Yes of course, that’s fine, Moses could do with a playmate, plus Ross is being useless right now.”

 

“Great, thanks, love,” Vanessa blows her a tiny thankful kiss.

 

She watches her girlfriend hunting, knowing it’s for her jumper, and knowing exactly where it is, but wanting to keep her here for just a few seconds longer, unwilling for the sun to leave the room just yet. “Why do you have to go to work?,” she asks petulantly.

 

Vanessa smiles that smile of _Charity’s being irritating but it’s so cute I can’t not indulge her_ as she circles the room, sure she left it up here somewhere. “Well, because that’s the way that society works, and I have to earn money to pay my rent, and to feed my little person, and to buy nice presents for my nice friends and nice family so they look after my little person so that I can come here,” she leans over Charity’s shoulder from behind to kiss her cheek, “and be insulted by you.”

 

“Your jumper’s downstairs, babe,” Charity says grumpily, which is met by another grateful kiss on the cheek, “and I don’t _just_ insult you.”

 

“Ok, fair enough,” Vanessa concedes, rounding the bed again on her way out the room, “you are also useful for keeping track of my clothing. And you make a decent brew. And you’re not that bad to look at.” She pauses, taking in the sight of her girlfriend, stretched out across the white sheets, her hair all over the place, the duvet doing little to cover her modesty, and thinks that she’s never seen anything more beautiful.

 

Charity smiles easily, “I guess I do have my uses, then.” She can feel Vanessa’s eyes glide over her body and revels in it, shifting slowly, languorously, putting a show on for the smaller woman, enjoys watching herself in Vanessa’s thoughts as if they were written across her forehead.

 

“Yeah, maybe,” she says, having already forgotten what they were just talking about, and crosses the room, kneeling at the side of the bed and tipping Charity’s head towards hers to meet her lips in a kiss.

 

Charity’s lips curl into Vanessa’s. She tastes the toothpaste on her tongue, and moves to capture the tip lightly between her teeth, before releasing it and swallowing Vanessa’s answering hum. Her ribs tingle with goosebumps as cool fingers trail over the skin, and she shivers into her lips.

 

Vanessa pulls back slightly, rests her forehead against Charity’s. “I do love you, you know,” she whispers.

 

Charity tries, and fails, to silence her glowing smile, says “yeah, you’re alright, too,” and stops herself as a hand tugs on her curls reproachfully. She kisses her again, barely touching, but Vanessa’s lips chase hers as she leans back to whisper “and I love you.”

 

Vanessa plants a soft kiss on her nose and pulls the duvet up over her shoulders, tucking her in lovingly like she does with Johnny. Charity smiles, writing as much love as she can onto her face before she closes her eyes blissfully.

 

“Bye, love,” she hears float towards her as footsteps fade down the hall.

 

She settles back into the bed, surrounded by a glorious combination of familiar scents.

 

Despite the goosebumps, there’s a boundless warmth in her belly that soothes her back to sleep.

 

It’s Vanessa. Of course, it’s Vanessa.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charity and Vanessa get ready for Chas and Paddy's wedding
> 
> “If I’d known you’d like the dress that much, babe, I’d have shown you last night,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK I'm SORRY for the very obvious and unnecessary pun at the beginning, I just COULDN'T RESIST, OK?

“Charity! Get your backside down here right now or we’re leaving you behind!” Faith’s voice doesn’t so much float up the stairs, but stomps, as if it could break down Charity’s bedroom door.

 

“Yeah, I’m coming!” Charity returns as loudly as she can, but her voice is that bit too strangled to sound completely natural, and Vanessa smirks into her shoulder blade, holding her firmly against the back of the door with her thigh as the shaking in the longer limbs begins, threatening to topple them both over.

 

Charity reaches up and bites the fleshy base of her thumb to muffle herself as her head tips back over Vanessa’s shoulder, her other hand on Vanessa’s wrist between her legs, her nails digging in probably harder than is exactly comfortable. 

 

Vanessa kisses and soothes the reddened skin and faint teeth marks along Charity’s shoulder and neck, waiting until she feels the pulse round her fingers slow down before she pulls her aching hand terribly slowly from the heat underneath Charity’s dress, revelling in the low hiss her girlfriend releases at the loss of contact.

 

After taking a moment to remember that breathing is sort of mandatory, “Jesus, Ness,” Charity says shakily, standing up straight and turning round, rearranging her dress as she does so.

 

Vanessa feels a rush to her core at the sight of her girlfriend’s flushed face and dilated pupils, which she chases up with a second as she tastes her own fingers, holding Charity’s eyes in hers, watching her lean back against the door with a weary, lusty look on her face.

 

She steps forwards in between Charity’s still open legs and kisses her deeply, biting Charity’s lip at the moan she knows is thanks to the taste of herself on Vanessa’s tongue.

 

“If I’d known you’d like the dress that much, babe, I’d have shown you last night,” her voice has regained most of the control as she smiles into her girlfriend’s lips.

 

“What, and ruin the surprise?” Vanessa smirks, moving backwards to let Charity extricate herself and pull her bra straps up, “you er, might need to check your make up, love.”

 

Charity huffs affectionately as she crosses to the mirror, “well, if you will insist on _having_ me up against the back of the bedroom door half an hour before my cousin gets married,” she hisses the last few words, hearing footsteps thudding up the stairs.

 

“Well, if _you_ will insist on wearing that par _ticular_ dress,” Vanessa moves behind Charity, her hands moving to fix Charity’s zip and tuck the label back in, smoothing down to sneak a squeeze of her bum before the door bursts open and a raging bull- no- Faith, bursts into the room.

 

“Bloody hell, Faith, hold your horses!” Charity says fiercely, eyes almost popping out of her head in indignation.

 

Faith looks set to explode, and Vanessa wonders for a moment how the hell Charity isn’t quivering, before she remembers that Charity is as hard as nails. “Your cousin is getting married today, and she is very _very_ stressed,” Vanessa smirks at Charity’s eye roll, “and she can do without you making us all late because you’re faffing about with your make up!”

 

“Oh please, Faith, it’s not like she’s not done this before, is it?” Charity puts her mascara down, crossing the room to pick up her bag.

 

Faith bristles and Vanessa feels the urge to duck, “well, lady, you’re one to talk, aren’t you? You’ve been up the aisle more times than-” Faith waves her arms around wildly in search of a metaphor that is cutting enough and Vanessa really does duck, “Elizabeth Taylor!”

 

Charity turns, an expression of ridiculed mirth and horror on her face, voice raised in derision, “Liz Taylor?! You’re showing your age a bit there, aren’t you?” She silences Faith’s impending storm of words hurriedly, “look, just get downstairs and we’ll be there in a second.” Faith seems to swallow her rage, words apparently failing her and turns out the door, leaving an echoing silence in her wake.

 

“Jesus, she’s scary,” Vanessa breathes out a sigh of relief, “ _you’re_ scary,” she nods to Charity, but moves towards her again, pulling her closer by her hips.

 

The anger somehow melts away from Charity’s face to be replaced with a soft, knowing smile, “well, that’s Dingles for you.” She chuckles at the expression on Vanessa’s face ,“sorry, babe, today’s going to be a long one. And you’re going to hear a lot about my previous- adventures up the aisle today, I’m afraid. My family keep whole books detailing every moment of my wrongdoings.” 

 

Vanessa huffs; she has her own opinions on how the so-called Best Family on Earth have treated her girlfriend in the past. But she kisses her once, softly. “We’d better go, love,” she murmurs against her lips, foreheads pressed together. 

 

She runs her hands down Charity’s dress, marvelling the incredible way that she manages to look angelic and sexy as hell at the same time, blonde curls tumbling over the baby blue fabric, which clings in all the right places and is low cut enough to be incredibly distracting. Charity catches her looking and ducks to catch Vanessa’s lips in hers, insatiable.

 

Vanessa chuckles and dodges, trying to tug her girlfriend towards the door, “come on, you horny cow, else it’s gonna be a funeral, not a wedding.”

 

Charity sulks, bottom lip stuck out in petulance, not letting go of Vanessa’s waist “they won’t miss me, babe, plus there’ll be plenty of other-”

 

Dodging out of her reach, Vanessa cuts her off “-Charity, you’re the maid of honour, you can’t miss the most romantic day of the year.”

 

Charity scoffs and opens her mouth to say something no doubt witty and derogatory and acerbic, but Vanessa silences her simply with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Oi. Play nice today, you. Maybe there’ll be a reward in it for you this evening…”

 

She leaves the room, swaying slightly and tossing her hair over her shoulder, knowing that Charity will follow her straightaway.

 

And she does.


	3. At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation, Vanity at Chas and Paddy's wedding  
> Charity has a minor panic and Vanessa is lovely and understanding as ever  
> \+ Etta James

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay but I've had the idea in my head for aaaages and it was so hard to write, I don't even know why it just was, but I've been writing and rewriting and rewriting this for WEEKS and I just wanted to get it out of my drafts folder, so it's probably not as good as it could be but hey ho there you go.
> 
> I hope you like it anyway xx

Charity leans back in her chair contentedly, sipping from her glass of champagne, watching Vanessa dancing with Rhona and Marlon. Well, _dancing_ might be a bit generous. What do you call that? Her arms and legs seem to be moving completely independently of each other, her hair swinging wildly. Maybe it’s some sort of stroke. That said, she does somehow manage to look quite sexy, her hips gyrating madly, and the floaty skirt swinging as she kicks her legs about. She tilts her head to the side, unable to keep a smile from her face as she watches her. 

 

“God, you’re so obvious, woman,” Chas plonks herself down in the seat next to Charity having just whirled off the dance floor, which is really just an open space next to the bar. She is oozing happiness, hair falling out of place over her shoulders and eyes glazed over but grinning from ear to ear.

 

“Eh?” Charity asks, turning her head to her cousin but keeping her eyes on Vanessa.

 

With a wry smile, “you,” Chas stabs Charity on the nose with a manicured finger and ignores her mock horrified expression. “You _loooove_ her,” she says in a sing-song voice, to which Charity nods slowly, “and she _looooves_ you,” Chas stifles a burp and makes doe eyes at her cousin, blinking dramatically.

 

There’s a sound of smashed glass and a “whoops, sorry!” from Paddy’s direction and Charity grits her teeth. “Right, Chas, if you’ve just come over here to tease me about finally being happy-”

 

“She wants to _marry_ you,” Chas interrupts her, leaning in so that Charity can smell the alcohol on her breath.

 

She pulls away from Chas quickly, looking searchingly into her face, a sharp shard of worry burrowing its way into her stomach at the words. Chas is struggling to look directly at her but Charity follows her eyes, searching for a hint of sincerity.

 

On realising that Chas is far too drunk to possibly make any more sense, “oh, piss off you drunkard,” she lets go of Chas’ hand, who stumbles to her feet and wanders off in search of her husband.

 

But Charity remains seated, eyes back on Vanessa, her cousin’s words echoing round her brain. _She wants to marry you she wants to marry you she wants to marry you_. Suddenly she feels a bit sick, and it’s not just because she’s been drinking since lunchtime.

 

She thinks back to this morning, to catching Vanessa’s eye as she was walking down the aisle, arm and arm with Cain ( _“What? Chas? You want me to walk down the aisle with Cain? I will never, never walk down the aisle with that man, I don’t care if he’s your bloody brother, or if it’s your poxy wedding-”_ ), and Vanessa’s eyes had been glassy, a radiant smile lighting up the whole room in response to the grim scowl Charity couldn’t keep from her face. Or when they’d left the church, and Vanessa had slipped out of her pew so they could walk out the church together, snuggling into the crook of her neck and wrapping herself around her waist, humming softly in her ear about how beautiful she looked. And then later back at the pub, when Paddy had been waffling on about how much he loved Chas and their little family, Vanessa had reached for Charity’s hand and held on tightly, her thumb stroking over her knuckles lovingly as Charity pulled endless faces of distaste.  
Each time, Charity had thought it had been because of the wedding and Vanessa’s hopeless sentimentality, but now a wholly different explanation has wiggled its way into her brain.

 

Her previously happy, floaty, tipsy bubble pops, leaving a hollow of guilt and anxiety inside her.

 

At this particular moment, Vanessa nearly topples herself over on her ridiculous heels trying to turn underneath Marlon’s outstretched arm but catches herself just in time. She laughs heavily and grabs onto him for support, catching Charity’s eye as she does so. Charity smiles bleakly, her brain swimming with white dresses and flowers and vows and commitment and snarky faces following them down the aisle.

 

Vanessa totters towards her, her balance impressively well recovered and a knowing, affectionate look in her eyes. “Yo,” she says, pulling some kind of ridiculous pose she’s probably seen in one of Noah’s music videos, making her look more drunk than she actually is. The grating pop music has stopped, and the first few notes of When a Man Loves a Woman begin.

 

Charity looks up at her, eyebrows raised, “yo. You look you’re enjoying yourself.”

 

With a frown, “yeah, and you look like you’re not,” Vanessa holds a hand out for Charity to take them, head tilted to the side, bending one leg in a curtsey-esque movement. “May I have this dance, m’lady?”

 

Moses and Johnny career noisily out from behind the bar, shouting unintelligible nonsense about a dinosaur, Moses’ shirt covered in jelly, Johnny struggling to keep up with him. Noah and Sarah are hot on their heels, following them outside.

 

Charity smiles at them, and looks back up at her girlfriend whose eyes are full of something so soft and whole it almost hurts to see, “oh, go on then,” and, taking her hand, stands to move with Vanessa out to where Pete and Rhona, and Doug and Diane are swaying side to side. “It’s a bit heteronormative though, isn’t it? When a Man Loves a Woman?”

 

Vanessa grins, placing Charity’s left hand on her shoulder, pulling her in close with her right palm at the small of her back, their free hands interlaced and held slightly out to the side. “Ooh, you’ve gone a bit political, Ms Dingle,” she jokes, as they begin to sway from side to side.

 

“Well,” Charity says, brushing her lips against Vanessa’s, tasting gin and sunshine, “it’s always a bloody man singing about a bloody woman, ain’t it?” 

 

“You’re not wrong,” Vanessa agrees, but Charity can tell that she’s not interested in the political song choices by the way her blue eyes are seeking something out in the green. “What’s up?” She enquires so softly that Charity could almost pretend not to have heard her.

 

Charity doggedly avoids Vanessa’s eye contact, instead smoothing her hand round her shoulders, nestling her cheek against Vanessa’s, smiling at the fact that for once she’s just about smaller than her: Charity had taken her shoes off as soon as she’d sat down. She breathes her in, eyes closed as they begin to sway together in time to the music. 

 

She can feel Vanessa’s hand warm, firm at the bottom of her spine, keeping their movements close, bodies melting into one.

 

A thumb massages circles over her knuckles, and she can read Vanessa in the movement, the familiarity of it almost soothing.

 

That’s how it is, now. Familiar. In a way that Charity never knew she could like so much. Never has she felt so safe, like she could tip herself backwards blindly and fall, bold in the knowledge that she won’t shatter. She will be enveloped in this familiarity, this safety, this _love_.

 

Well, that’s how it is for now. This rug they stand on, their threads woven together so intricately, so cautiously over the past year, threatens to be pulled from under her feet, trembles perilously now _she_ wants to marry you. 

 

Vanessa’s grip on her hand tightens slightly, wanting a response. The question tumbles, choked, over Charity’s lips into Vanessa’s neck, almost unbidden, “do you want to get married?”

 

Vanessa pulls Charity’s eyes to hers, hands soft on either side of her face. Her eyes are widened in surprise, her mouth gaping slightly, “get married? What, are you asking me?” Charity can’t tell if it’s excitement or horror that’s making her words shake, which makes her think that this has all been a big fat fucking mistake, of course it was, why did she ever get herself involved in any of this, what a complete _waste_ of time- “Charity?”

 

She lets out a big breath, “no I- I wasn’t asking you. It’s just something that Chas said, that you wanted to marry me,” she says the last words with her eyes closed, wincing at the facial expression she can’t even see. “And you’ve never been married, and you and me, we’re- you know- we’re pretty good, and I thought that, maybe you thought- that you’d want to get married, and then I thought that maybe you _didn’t_ want to get married, and somehow that’s even worse, and I just hadn’t thought about it at all, and I just panicked-”

 

“Hey,” Vanessa whispers, cupping Charity’s cheeks, brushing beneath her eyes to gently encourage her to open them, “Baby,” Charity shudders at the love held in the word, “I mean- I’m not going to lie, the thought had crossed my mind,” and Charity is now looking hard into her eyes, searching desperately, “it would be lovely, you know, to be your wife,” she knocks her hips against Charity’s, draws out that reluctant little smile. “But, it’s not the be all and end all, you know? If we do get married, then wow, how bloody awesome would that be? But if we don’t? Charity, I don’t need to be Mrs Dingle to know that I love you, and you love me, and that’s not going to change any time soon.”

 

Whatever evil concoction of anger and resentment that Charity is seeking out in Vanessa’s eyes is simply not there. “Are you sure?” She asks, her voice as small and timid and fearful as it’s ever been.

 

The answering smile is a sunbeam, radiating light and sending Charity’s anxiety scurrying. “Yes.” Her voice is firm, her hands linked at the back of Charity’s neck, thumbs nestled in the baby hairs under her curls, wrists keeping those green eyes fixed on hers.

 

Charity winds her arms round Vanessa’s waist, breathes relief into a kiss so deep they forget about the rhythm of the dance for a moment, the music of their tongues so intoxicating. 

 

Vanessa pulls her head back, lets Charity pull her hips in close, smiles at the beginning notes of At Last, until a thought crosses her mind so obviously that Charity can almost see it walk into her brain. “Is the thought of marrying me that terrifying?” Concern is etched round the corners of Vanessa’s eyes and any remaining hardness in Charity’s heart crumbles.

 

“No, not terrifying,” her voice is louder than she’d anticipated and she blinks around quickly to make sure no one is nosying in, knowing her neighbours are wont to eavesdrop. “I just- I’ve been married before, and it always turns sour, and-” she glares upwards as if to chastise the heavens for _never letting things go right,_ “I just don’t want that to happen to us.”

 

Vanessa smiles, almost sadly, and nods, placated. “OK,” she kisses her chastely and presses their noses together for a second before looking back into her face. “Just so you know, Charity,” her eyes dancing again with that warm, soft, whole thing that makes Charity’s lungs ache,“I don’t think that would happen to us. I think we’d be pretty damn good.”

 

Charity lets those golden words wrap themselves around them, lets her breathing steady, lets the music carry them away.

 

_My lonely days are over,_

 

“I love this song,” Vanessa hums, their foreheads pressed together, knees bumping against each other as they move.

 

“I love you,” Charity breathes across her lips before catching them between her own.

 

Vanessa grins, “you old romantic.” Charity tucks her chin between Vanessa’s cheek and her shoulder, drinks in that scent she doesn’t think she can live without now.

 

Maybe, maybe marrying Vanessa Woodfield wouldn’t be such a disaster. 

 

Suddenly Vanessa begins to tremble, her whole body shaking against Charity’s. For a second, Charity panics, until she tips back and realises that her lips are stretched into a smile: she’s laughing, “babe, what?!” 

 

Vanessa lets out a few short shaky breaths of mirth, trying to regain her self control, “nothing, I was just-” she grasps Charity’s shoulders in an attempt to steady herself, “I was just imagining you asking my Dad for his permission to- ask me to marry you,” the last few words were barely intelligible, dragged out over giggles.

 

Charity lets out a shout of amusement that turns at least three heads, but she doesn’t care. “Babe, that alone is a reason _to_ get married,” she says, laughing at Vanessa’s laughter.

 

“He would be absolutely horrified!” Vanessa collapses again, clearly enamoured with the idea.

 

“Everyone would. Can you imagine Cain’s face? Or Pearl’s?” Charity lowers her voice, leaning in so that none of their friends are offended.

 

Vanessa smiles, a little confusedly, “do you really think people hate the idea that much?”

 

Charity cocks her head to the side, pretending to consider the question. 

 

_You smiled, you smiled, oh, and then the spell was cast,_

 

Ten minutes ago, a few choice words from Chas had sent her into a tailspin, imagining the world crashing round her and this love being shattered into a thousand pieces. And now, after a few short words and a kiss from Vanessa, her happy, tipsy, floaty bubble has magically reformed itself around her, and she can’t feel anything but secure with this woman and this heart in her arms. 

 

_And here we are in heaven,_

 

Charity kisses Vanessa’s smile, a barely-there kiss that could almost have been imagined. “Babe, I really, really, _really_ don’t give a shit what they think.”

 

Vanessa glows, reaching her arms further round Charity’s neck in a tighter grip, hugging her close. Charity moves in kind, her hands winding round her slim waist so she almost lifts the smaller woman up on to her toes.

 

They make the most of the last few moments of the song, bodies swaying in almost perfect synchrony, moving as if they are one.

 

_For you are mine, at last._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for making Charity walk down the aisle with Cain, I just thought it would be so funny and once I thought of it I couldn't resist...
> 
> Tell me you hate it in the comments if you will... ;)


	4. You Know Me Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night w/ Vanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Sharon Van Etten "You Know Me Well" funnily enough
> 
> Fluff and nonsense

“Oh God, I haven’t eaten that much in ages,” Vanessa throws herself backwards onto the bed, the duvet puffing out either side of her like a cloud.

 

“Well,” Charity winces as she takes her shoes off, “you didn’t have to order that pudding, did you?” There’s a huff of what sounds like indignation from the bed as Charity makes her way over, smiling, “it is sort of your own fault, in’t it? 

 

Vanessa’s mouth opens incredulously, defensively, just like Moses when accused of snaffling crisps before tea, “Charity, you said you’d share it with me!”

 

“Ah yes,” Charity reaches the edge of the bed and looms over her, hair tickling her chin, buoyed and cocky from wine and the upper hand, “but see, I know that you are an absolute sucker for anything that has the word “triple chocolate” in it, practically drooling at the menu, you were,” she plants a kiss at the edge of her mouth, “so I said I’d share it with you so you’d order it, and then so you could have it all to yourself. Which you did, you greedy get.”

 

Vanessa sits up slightly with a little noise of surprise in her throat, “seriously?”

 

“Yep,” Charity releases her lips with a pop and then collapses back next to Vanessa, “I can read you like a book, babe,” a self-satisfied smile all over her face. 

 

She feels Vanessa’s annoyed stillness, lets it wash over her and fuel her smugness, lets it bite her lip.

 

“You’re so flamin’ cocky, you are, you think you know me so well,” Vanessa huffs, falling back into the duvet.

 

Charity turns her head to look at her. Her eyes are closed: half-annoyed half-tired. The full set of stubborn stroppiness is present and correct on her face; that muscle flickering in her cheek, the furrow between her eyebrows, the twitch in her nose. 

 

It’s one of Charity’s favourite things now. She knows how to make all those little muscles tense, and then she knows how to relax them again, replace the hostility with something smoother. 

 

Sometimes she winds her up just to unwind her again, and she knows Vanessa lets her: she enjoys being huffy and stubborn because she enjoys watching Charity run after her with her tail between her legs, or with a glint in her eye and a wandering hand. It’s a little dance they dance, the steps so familiar they don’t even need to think anymore.

 

Charity turns onto her side to face her and smiles, watches Vanessa’s chest rise and fall, her eyebrows quivering with the strain of maintaining the stroppy. “Babe,” she hums softly, a hand trailing up and down an arm, and already the corners of her mouth are turned up slightly, “I do know you.”

 

Opening one eye and inspecting Charity’s face, “oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Charity breathes into her ear, “I know you love triple chocolate _anything_ , and I know you only like it when they serve the sauce in a little jug because you like to pour it yourself,” Vanessa huffs again and swats at Charity’s hair, now tickling over her shoulder, but the twitchy muscle in her cheek has stood down. 

 

“You drink beer mostly, and you’ll have wine if I’m having a bottle like tonight, but you’ll always ask for tap water even if you don’t drink it.”

 

“You make me sound so predictable.”

 

Charity raises her eyebrows, “well-” earning herself a swat on the upper arm before Vanessa sits up, back turned huffily.

 

It’s not real anger, she knows: if Vanessa were truly angry, she’d be on the other side of the room by now. It’s their little push and pull, and Charity feels her next move like it’s written into her muscles. She reaches over and toys with the zip at the back of Vanessa’s dress, starts to work it down slowly. 

 

“I know you love it when Johnny gets confused and calls me Mum,” she plants a kiss at the newly exposed skin and feels gratified at Vanessa’s involuntary shiver. “Or when Noah acknowledges your existence without being horrible,” she sweeps her hair to the side, runs her nose along her shoulder and kisses the top where it joins her arm.

 

“Well normally that’s just shock, actually…” the line of Vanessa’s spine is softening as she lets herself curl back into Charity’s body, though her voice is still reserved.

 

Charity smiles into the crook of Vanessa’s neck, can practically see her stroppy eyebrows unfurling. “I know… you like crime fiction but you hate police shows, apart from your Scott and Bailey DVDs because you have a crush on Suranne Jones,” she nibbles at her earlobe gently, lets her own hair fall over Vanessa’s shoulder. “I know you secretly love it when I try it on in public.”

 

She ignores the little yap of indignation in favour of working the straps of Vanessa’s dress down her arms to pool round her waist. 

 

“I know you love it when I do this,” she husks, and snakes her hands under Vanessa’s arms to cup her breasts, clenching her fingers over the sensitive areas she knows so well, grinning in victory as Vanessa’s head tips back over her shoulder accompanied by a tiny moan.

 

Not for a very long time, maybe not since Cain the first time, has she known someone as well as she knows Vanessa now. She has a soul she’s not afraid to bare, a heart she holds out in her hands like an offering to the world. Charity always thought she needed someone with a few secrets, a bit of mystery, some sort of flickering fire to play with so she doesn’t get bored. Boredom is dangerous. 

 

But now, perhaps because she’s older, or because she’s been burnt by that fire too many times, almost been consumed by it, she craves the gentle, the calm. She craves Vanessa. She doesn’t worry when she comes home because she knows what she’ll find. Or at least, she knows how to deal with whatever she may find. Vanessa isn’t predictable, but she’s easy and open, and she has let Charity crawl inside and learn her and understand her like a map, even the darkest, ugliest bits. Though really, she thinks, there is nothing ugly inside Vanessa.

 

They know each other, now. Charity knows that if she slides a hand inside Vanessa’s bra, like she does now, a finger dragged over her nipple, that Vanessa’s moan will be louder and more desperate than before, and it is.

 

She knows that if she turns her head and lets their lips meet, Vanessa’s tongue will be the first to seek further contact, and that it will be as hungry and yearning as if they hadn’t just eaten a three course meal.

 

She knows that if she pushes the dress down until her hand smoothes over the soft skin of her belly, that Vanessa will hiss and then say, “oi, Charity, I’ve eaten too much,” which she does. And so Charity kisses the nape of her neck slowly and continues, cups the swollen curve of her stomach tenderly, tells Vanessa with her hands that she doesn’t care how much she’s eaten and how much it shows.

 

“And I know you’re beautiful,” she whispers, her nose right next to her ear.

 

Vanessa hums softly, then shifts away off the bed, “I’m just going to text Tra-”, but Charity holds her back, her hands on her hips.

 

“You are beautiful, Ness,” Charity says again, insistently, and she knows how soft her face must look by the gleam in Vanessa’s eyes. She doesn’t say it enough, she knows.

 

The heat that had been simmering between them settles into a warmth as they look at each other, a delicately safe, comfortable feeling Charity has learnt to stop fighting. “You’re drunk,” Vanessa chastises, swaying slightly as Charity winds her hands round her waist.

 

Charity smiles, rests her chin on Vanessa’s sternum, “a little,” flutters her eyelashes up at her, “but my eyes still work.” 

 

Vanessa’s smile is tiny, but Charity can detect a glimmer of it under the modesty and embarrassment. It’s effortless, being together like this.

 

It’s sometimes shamefully easy to forget this intimacy when Vanessa’s nagging her for the hundredth time to tell the Dingles about Ryan, or when she’s scrubbing paint off the carpet whilst Johnny’s trying to play horsies and his mum’s gleefully taking photos. But they always find their way back. Charity can’t envisage a day when it lies too far away, for it’s at the core of every moment, tethers them back home when things get tough, wraps itself round their limbs at dusk.

 

“Thank you for this evening, Charity,” Vanessa hums, still swaying them together as if to a tune only they know the rhythm of. “And,” she rolls her eyes, “for the triple chocolate brownie.”

 

Charity smiles, golden, “I told you, babe,” she pulls Vanessa’s lips down to hers with a hand at the back of her neck and whispers over them, “I know you.” Their mouths meet, slow and scorching.

 

Perhaps it’s this intimacy that’s Charity’s favourite. No need for words that so often aren’t enough, just the truth of touch. 

 

Skin against skin. Tongue against tongue. Soul against soul.

 

As Charity’s hands finally free Vanessa’s upper body of the restrictions of clothing, they fall into each other as if it’s what they’d been waiting for all evening. Which, Charity thinks before Vanessa’s knee falling between her legs wipes all conscious thought out of her mind, they had been.

 

Sometimes it’s like they’ve been together ten days, so all-consuming is the greedy, thrilling inability to keep their insatiable hands off each other.

 

And sometimes it’s like it’s been ten years, and it’s the depth of feeling in simply holding hands or a secret smile that stitches them together.

 

Charity would find it sickening if she wasn’t so in love.


End file.
